


True Colors

by Adorkablegeekgirl



Category: Strange Magic (2015)
Genre: 80's AU, Alternate Universe - Human, F/M, Mild Language
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-13
Updated: 2015-09-05
Packaged: 2018-04-14 11:59:16
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 12
Words: 18,340
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4563801
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Adorkablegeekgirl/pseuds/Adorkablegeekgirl
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Strange Magic 80′s Human AU - Interracial relationships</p>
<p>Our beloved Strange Magic characters all wrapped up in high school and music conservatory settings, accompanied by fun, cheesy 80′s music.  80's fashion and pop culture ahead.  Party on, dudes!</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. A Hazy Shade of Winter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sadness, regret, and introspection.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "A Hazy Shade of Winter" by The Bangles

Marianne was tired. No, tired didn’t quite describe the intense emotional vacuum she had been in for the past few weeks. She sat there, alone in the church, voices drifting in from the reception hall outside where family and friends were speaking in hushed tones over plates of food. Her mother lay there, looking as though she were merely napping.

Marianne rose, walking slowly over to her. Looking down, she couldn’t help but think that her mother looked perfect, even in death. Her mother never stepped outside the house without full make up, hair done to perfection and dressed to impress. Marianne never understood it. She always had resented it when her mother forced her to follow in her fashionista footsteps. She’d preferred running around the backyard, throwing sand around in the sandbox her father had made for her and playing in the dirt. Her little sister, Dawn, however, loved it, and her mother had found her favorite.

Marianne never disliked her sister over it. Dawn was just…Dawn. Like her name, she was always happy, positive, and radiant. Dawn made friends easily and everyone who met her, loved her. Marianne was no exception.

She let out a frustrated sigh. Why couldn’t she cry? Dawn’s tears seemed never-ending, her eyes ready to leak tears of sorrow at every little thing since their mother’s accident. For once, Dawn was unhappy, her smiles had grown almost non-existent. She seemed, duller, less radiant, less Dawn. Marianne felt nothing, and it angered her, made her wonder if she was lacking somehow. That maybe she had been born with a piece of her soul missing.

She had loved her mother, even though she never understood her. Even though her mother had pushed her so hard to be a “proper young lady”. Perfect. Marianne had perfect grades, played the piano perfectly, sang perfectly, danced perfectly, spoke three languages perfectly, and with the exception of when she had been sick, had perfect church attendance. She even had the perfect boyfriend. Her mother had made sure of that, basically betrothing her to Roland, the perfect son of one of her close friends.

Her public persona was…perfect. But still she felt…nothing. As though the last 16 years of her life had been nothing more than a dream she had been walking through, where everything was happening around her and to her as she wandered through a hazy fog. But she had never been good enough for her mother. No matter how perfect she strived to be, she never felt she was able to earn her mother’s stamp of approval.

“Oh, mom,” Marianne thought. “I’m sorry. Please keep watching over me, let me know you’re still here with me.”

Marianne started as a small, cool hand rested on her shoulder. Dawn. She met her little’s sister’s eyes, so much like their mom’s. “Marianne, Dad is looking for you.” Marianne allowed herself to be led to the reception area, shaking herself mentally and standing taller, her perfect persona snapping into place.


	2. Simply Irresistible

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Sunny and Dawn.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Simply Irresistible" by Robert Palmer

“Oh, Sunny, what would I do without you? What was I thinking letting the Pixies rope me into helping with their party?” Dawn plopped face down on the pink vinyl bean bag in her living room, her long, dark chocolate brown hair flowing over onto the floor. Sunny was seated on the floor, using the coffee table as the workspace for their planning project. MTV was on, blasting Culture Club's 'Karma Chameleon'.

Sunny looked over at Dawn and silently wondered what his life would’ve been like if he had never met her. They had met in third grade and had become fast friends when Dawn had helped him stand up to a few bullies giving him a hard time about his height. Or lack of it. She had been incredibly sweet and when she had finally looked at him with her bright eyes and introduced herself with a cheery, ‘Hi, I’m Dawn!’, he was lost.

Their friendship had almost ended as quickly as it had begun when Dawn had invited Sunny over after school one day to play. Their mother, Linda, was not happy about Sunny being black and seemingly from a lower income bracket. She hadn’t said anything straight out, but it had been there in way she had questioned Sunny, peppering him with disapproving glances and making off-hand comments under her breath that she made sure only Sunny could hear.

Then Dawn introduced him to Marianne. Sunny had held his breath as her older sister’s intense amber eyes assessed him. Would she share their mother’s sentiments? But Marianne ended up giving him a smile, not quite as bright as Dawn’s, shrugged and simply told him to be nice to her sister, or else.

A few days later, Marianne had heard one of her mother’s muttered comments about Sunny’s skin color. Marianne had apparently been all to aware of her mother’s racism and openly confronted her about her small minded ways. How Sunny was smart, funny and a good friend. But it wasn’t until Linda had discovered that Sunny and his family attended their church that Linda begrudgingly stopped saying negative things to Sunny. She never fully approved of their friendship, but the three of them had stayed friends.

Dawn had suffered incredibly when Linda had passed away. Sunny hadn’t known what to do to help. All he knew is that he wanted to make sure she never felt alone. He had watched helplessly as Marianne withdrew into herself, changing into someone Dawn and he had started to not recognize. The two sisters had seemed to lose their closeness and that seemed to make Dawn wither even more.

Their father, who had pretty much been non-existent before Linda’s death due to him working two jobs, had pretty much disappeared. He worked as much as he could, only coming home long enough to eat and sleep. He would also go on active duty with his Army Reserve unit and could be gone for up to two weeks at a time. Dawn and Marianne were left to themselves. Marianne took over her mother’s job of managing the family’s finances and the two of them shared all the household duties.

“Sunny? Hello?”

Sunny gave Dawn a teasing smile. “What would you do without me? Hmmm, well for starters you’d be planning the Pixies’ party all by yourself. Now, are you sure we should add that song to the set?”

Dawn gave him an indignant glare, turned her cute nose up at him and informed him haughtily, “I, for one, happen to think ‘Careless Whisper’ is a completely appropriate song for the party. After all it’s such a great slow dance number!”

Sunny looked down at his notebook and tried to hide the blush he felt creeping up as he tried to not think about what it would be like to dance to that song with her.


	3. Girls Just Wanna Have Fun

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Enter 'The Pixies'!

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Girls Just Wanna Have Fun" by Cyndi Lauper
> 
> Tito = Uncle
> 
> Eskrima - Filipino Martial Arts (FMA) Emphasizes weapon-based fighting with sticks, knives, bladed weapons and various improvised weapons. It also includes hand-to-hand combat, joint locks, grappling and weapon disarming techniques. Although in general, emphasis is put on weapons for these arts, some systems put empty hands as the primary focus and some old school systems do not teach weapons at all.
> 
> Debut - Similar to a 'Sweet Sixteen', it's a coming-of-age celebration for Filipino women, usually when they turn 18.

“Mariaaaaanne!” Marianne cringed at her her name being sung in unison by her three cousins. She and Dawn always referred to them as “The Pixies” in private. They were sisters, triplets, to be exact. So identical that if it wasn’t for the fact that they dressed in their own favorite color no one would be able to tell them apart. Not even their parents. They weren’t really her cousins, biologically speaking. Their moms had been childhood friends and in their culture that made their children “cousins”.

They were incredibly petite, shorter than Marianne and she was barely over 5 feet tall! They kept their long, thick, ebony hair up in fancy, intricate knots and braids, held in place with fancy barrettes that had colorful ribbon woven throughout and dangling strands. And they loved to laugh. All. the. time. Their incessant giggling put Dawn to shame.

But Marianne knew better. These tiny, giggly, girly girls were incredible Eskrima fighters. Highly skilled in the various weapons and fighting styles that the Filipino martial arts utilized. They each had their favorite weapon of choice though. Dahlia, who wore pink, preferred working with machetes and other bladed weaponry, Gloria who wore purple, preferred working with sticks, and Emerita, who wore green, preferred hand to hand combat.

There were only a few days of her senior year left and her cousins, who were also seniors, were planning a huge event.  They had been trying to recruit her to perform at their debut/graduation/birthday party. As much as Marianne liked her cousins, she really wasn’t interested. A little over a year had passed since her mother’s funeral.  She just wasn't in the mood.  She had no desire to dress up, socialize and put herself on display.  That was her mother and Dawn's thing.  They were the social butterflies.  She was more of a 'hide and watch from the sidelines' kind of girl.

They had already successfully gotten Dawn and Sunny to participate. Dawn had agreed to help with the decorations and Sunny with the entertainment.

“Soooooo,” began Dahlia, all smiles and giggles and wearing way too much pink for Marianne's taste, “have you decided what song you’re going to sing?”

Before Marianne could answer, Gloria jumped in, purple glitter nails flashing, with, “Oh, I know, I know! She’s going to sing ‘I Believe the Children are our Future’!”

Then Emerita, fluorescent green jelly shoes a blur as she jumped up and down, “Oooooh, I love Whitney Houston! Yes, sing that one, it’s perfect! Wait, isn’t the name of that song ‘The Greatest Love of All’?”

Marianne felt the beginnings of a headache at the base of her skull. “I don’t think I’ll be able to make it. I really don't have any time to prepare anything and I have one last final to study for.”

“Oh, my God, Marianne!” Dahlia whined. She was the most dramatic one of the three and always seemed to be hyped up on caffeine thanks to her addiction to Diet Coke. “Are you joking?! You’re such a brainiac you’d ace it in your sleep! And you're so talented you could whip something together in five minutes! All the family is going to be there! It’s our birthday, graduation, debut party! It’s a triple whammy! You can’t say no, my mom will never forgive us!”

“Or you for that matter. Besides, you owe us.” Gloria added.

Marianne grasped for her last straw, “Dad will be working and I’ll have to make him dinner when he gets home.”

Now it was Emerita’s turn. “Marianne, Tito’s a grown up. Leave him something in the fridge and he can heat it up himself. I know he knows how to use a microwave.”

Marianne slowly felt her leverage slipping away, and looking down at her half eaten bag of corn nuts, fired one last round. “You know he hates how food tastes when it’s zapped.”

Silence. She could feel three pairs of eyes boring into her head. She counted to ten, sighed and gave up. Grinding her teeth she finally growled, “Fine. I’ll think of something.” She quickly tossed the remainder of her lunch in the trash and stalked off before the triplets could say anything more. But that didn’t stop the sound of their irritating giggles of glee and excitement from drifting toward her as she fled.


	4. I Want to Know What Love Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The big graduation/birthday/debut party has arrived! Enter Roland.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "I Want to Know What Love Is" by Foreigner
> 
> Mestizo - In the Philippines, which was a colony of Spain, the term mestizo came to refer to person with Filipino and any foreign ancestry.

“Crap. Triple crap.” Marianne had completely forgotten about Roland being at the Pixies’ party. Of all people here, he was the one she really wasn’t ready to see.

Dawn followed Marianne’s line of sight to see what her sister had skipped ‘double crap’ for. She brightened when she saw Roland, reddish brown hair shiny and styled to perfection. “Oh, Marianne, Roland will be so happy to see you! You two really haven’t had much time to hang out since…in awhile.”

Marianne was grateful Dawn hadn’t mentioned their mother. Since her mother passed away Marianne had changed. Well, everyone around her said she had changed. She preferred to think that she had just finally let pieces of her true self break through. She still maintained her perfect GPA and her music studies but she had begun to branch out more. Pursue things that truly interested her. Like Eskrima.

That’s why Gloria had said she owed them and it was true. After their mother had passed away, Marianne had begun training with them. The Pixies’ dad, Tito Raul, was a professional Eskrima fighter and owned his own studio where the Pixies both trained and worked. Marianne had found the sport…soothing. She really couldn’t explain it any better than that. She had discovered that she had a natural talent for it and before long the pixies had crowned her a worthy sparring opponent. And for the first time, sweaty, bruised and bleeding in few places, adrenaline pumping through her veins, she felt alive.

She had also cut her hair short and styled it spiky. Dawn had started calling her ‘Lady Jaye’ from the G.I. Joe cartoons Marianne loved to watch. And where she had never bothered with cosmetics other than lipgloss, Marianne had begun to wear eye shadow, inspired by Pat Benetar’s smoky look when she was flying a fighter plane in her music video for ‘Shadows of the Night’.  If her mother saw her now, well Marianne preferred not to think about it too much. For the first time in too long she finally felt like she was beginning to learn how to breathe.

Roland did not approve. He loved Marianne the way she had been. The way she was dressed now. Dawn had styled her hair into some smooth concoction a la Madonna in her ‘True Blue’ video. Dawn had also insisted on doing her make up, going for a more ‘pure’ look. Whatever that meant. She was wearing a frilly lavender, tea length, chiffon dress with satin pumps dyed to match. A perfect lady for a perfect gentleman.

She loved Roland. Or at least she was pretty sure she did. He had been her mother’s ideal and she had always smiled whenever she had seen the two of them together. Those were the times Marianne had thought she had been happy too. She was so eager to gain her mother’s approval, her happiness had been Marianne’s happiness as well.

Now? Now she just didn’t know. Could someone know what love truly was at 18?  Roland had been patient while she had worked through the traditional one year mourning period. He had given her space and said he would wait. That they were young, they had plenty of time to spend together later. He had started college last year so it hadn't been too difficult for them to take a breather.

As Marianne had begun to go through her ‘transformation’, as he had called it, he had always been the first to comment. 'What would your mother say if she could see you now?' seemed to be his favorite reaction to every stage of her metamorphosis. Marianne sighed and gave herself a gentle shake as he approached her, his perfectly white, straight teeth shining at her as he smiled. Hazel eyes intently looked into her amber ones.

His father had been Irish, which contributed to the light, bronze tone of his skin. It made his teeth seem to dazzle all the more. He had also inherited some of his father’s height, making her have to look up a little bit at time as he came closer. “Marianne,” he murmured and he held out his hand to her. She swore she heard Dawn and the Pixies sigh dreamily and giggle behind her.

He really was so very good looking. She placed her hand in his and allowed him to lead her out to the dance floor and into a waltz. It was easy as they had taken ballroom dancing lessons together since they were six and seven.  They had stopped when Roland had left for college. It felt familiar and comforting and she could almost imagine her mother there, watching them with a smile on her lovely face. She allowed herself to melt into him with a sigh.


	5. Heartbreaker

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The title says it all.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Heartbreaker" by Pat Benatar
> 
> Alert: a few swear words toward the end.
> 
> Ninang = Godmother
> 
> Susmaryosep: Filipino slang meaning, ‘oh, my god’. Jesus, Mary, Joseph combined
> 
> María Clara: a traditional gown worn by women in the Philippines. 
> 
> Barong Tagalog: embroidered formal shirt which is considered the national dress for men of the Philippines. It is lightweight and worn untucked over an undershirt.

“I am so glad that’s over.” Marianne had retreated hastily backstage and was trying to make her way to the bathroom to change out of the costume she had worn for her performance.

“You can’t change yet!” Dawn hissed in an exaggerated stage whisper, blocking her escape. “They’re still applauding! You need to do an encore.”

“Oh, no I don’t!” Having to dress up in her mother’s Maria Clara dress was bad enough. Having been made to sing a song that had been one of her mother’s favorites was worse. Having to go back out there and be in the spotlight again? No thanks.

But the applause hadn’t died down and Dawn was giving her ‘the look’. Marianne bit her lower lip, trying to break the pleading spell Dawn was trying to cast on her. She was about to speak when Roland stepped onto the stage from the other side, mike in hand, and bestowing the audience with one of his high beam smiles. His perfectly pressed Barong Tagalog had been made with an amazing amount of intricate, interwoven patterns. Every hair in his Don Johnson, Miami Vice hairstyle, in place.

“Marianne, my love. Let’s sing our song. Come on out, Buttercup.” He extended his arm out toward her and his high powered gaze honed in on her.

She was effectively trapped. Whoops and cheers broke out. She weighed her options. Run and never hear the end of it until the day she died, or get out there and get it over with. Dawn squealed, gave her a shove and the deed was done. She was past the point of no return.

She called upon her persona of perfection and donned it like a suit of armor. She placed her hand in Roland’s, forcibly stopping herself from rolling her eyes at the Pixies' hysterical giggles and swooning from the front row.

 _Wait, they had a song?_ Marianne quickly scanned her brain to try and remember what it was. Someone placed a mike in her hand and she heard the instrumental introduction of ‘Endless Love’ come on. _‘Endless Love’?! Since when?!_

Roland began his smooth crooning. She had to hand it to him, the boy could really sing. She was saved by her perfect persona. It dictated her smiles, the emotion she put into her singing, the ‘loving couple’ choreography that had all the older relatives planning wedding dates and invitation lists. She could see Dawn out of the corner of her eye, hands clasped under her chin, swaying to the music, stars in her eyes. A motion behind Dawn caught her eye. Sunny, giving her one of his sappy grins and two thumbs up.

Perfect persona gave her a nudge. _Song’s over. Smile, bow, give Roland hug_. The sound of silverware being tapped on glasses broke through her auto pilot mode. Oh, no. That was the sound of the audience wanting to see a kiss. That was just for wedding receptions! But there could be no doubt about what the audience wanted to see. Everyone was shouting, ‘Kiss, kiss, kiss’, accompanied by steady, rhythmic claps. She wanted to shout, ‘this isn’t a wedding!’, but perfect persona had other plans.

 _Smile. Turn toward Roland, you love him remember? Put arms around him, it’s called a hug. Lean forward. Look up. Press your lips against his. Enjoy it._ She could barely register the cheering as perfect persona had her completely in it’s grasp. Then Roland tried to deepen the kiss, his tongue stabbing at the seam in her lips, trying to get her to comply. Marianne froze. After a heartbeat, she told her perfect persona to go to hell, broke the kiss and stormed offstage. She could hear good-natured laughter and teasing, and Roland, ever the smooth talker, easily took back center stage, audience entranced.

**********

The triplets ambushed her in the bathroom.

“Hoy, Marianne!” Dahlia, practically shouting, came in first, fanning herself aggressively with her pink fan. Her face was flushed, pink taffeta dress looking rumpled from all the dancing she had been doing. “Oh, my god, that was, like, totally awesome!”

“Oooooh, I wanna be a bridesmaid!” Gloria, emphasizing her demand by poking her purple fan toward Marianne.

“I’d rather be a Ninang.” Emerita, usually the sanest of the three, rhapsodized, her green fan dangling from her gloved wrist.

“Uh, were still teenagers, remember?” Where was Scotty when you needed him. She desperately wished she had a communicator so she could order him to beam her off this crazy planet already.

“Oh, well, after you both graduate college, of course.” Emerita, the relatively sane, redeeming herself a bit.

“Well, DUH.” Gloria crossed her arms.

Dahlia’s pink fan stilled. Marianne braced herself for the infamous whine. “Ay, susmaryosep! How is that going to take? We’ll be OLD!”

Marianne, finally changed, minus shoes, grabbed her bag in on hand, shoes in the other and headed out. She could put on her shoes outside. She just needed to escape. And fast.

“Marianne?”  She turned to look at Gloria, held her breath and waited.

“Thank you. You know. For coming and performing tonight. We really do know how hard it was for you, but it meant a lot to all of us. We don’t graduate and turn 18 every day now, do we?”

Marianne suddenly felt two inches tall. In an uncharacteristic show of affection, she rushed over to her cousins and engaged them in one big group hug. There was a moment of silence as each girl was lost in their own thoughts and feelings. Dahlia sniffed and when Marianne felt the beginning of tears leaking through her closed eyelids, she gave them one final squeeze and headed out.

**********

The reception hall was starting to empty out, the elders having left the young ones to finish off any remaining food, dance, and karaoke sing the night away. Well, at least until the time the banquet hall reservation ended which was soon.

Marianne padded through the hallway.  She hadn't bothered to put her shoes on yet so she was still in her socked feet, her footsteps silent.  She went to look for Sunny and Dawn, hoping to find them soon.  She just wanted to go home and crash.  She heard voices coming from the elevators and headed over, stopping immediately when she heard the mixed giggles of a couple. Marianne rolled her eyes, wishing people her age could show a little more restraint with the public displays of affection.

“Roland! Stop that!” The girl’s voice laughed, clearly not wanting him to stop.

“Aw, sweet thing, I just can’t help myself!”

Marianne stopped breathing. _Roland?_

“Shouldn’t you be looking for your girlfriend? Your ‘endless love’?” the girlie voice sneered.

“What? No. She’s not really my girlfriend. Our moms were friends, we grew up together, it’s nothing like that.”

“Hmmmm….I see,” the girlie voice practically purred.

“So, I guess you won’t mind if I do this…” Roland’s sentence cut off.

It wasn’t long before the sounds of intense making out reached her ears.

Marianne was going to be sick. _‘Nothing’? ‘Like that’? What the hell?_

Marianne’s thoughts raced. Memories of their childhood, their mothers pairing them up, the laughs and good times they had shared. They had dated! They were boyfriend, girlfriend! Didn’t everyone know they were practically engaged?! Betrothed, intended?! He loved her, didn’t he? He had told her numerous times. And she loved him, didn’t she?

“There you are! Marianne, yoo hoo, Sunny and I are so ready to head home,”  Dawn sung out, she and Sunny coming toward her from the other end of the hall.

Then Roland. “Marianne?”

There was nowhere to hide. Her cover blown, Marianne met Dawn and Sunny at the elevators. One look at her and Roland knew. The girl who had been sucking on his face just moments ago actually had the tact to turn and leave. Roland smiled at her. His perfect grin marred by neon pink lipstick smeared across his lips. He even had the garish brand on his neck and jawline.

Sunny and Dawn took in the scene and kept blessedly quiet, stepping back a few paces.

“Marianne,” Roland’s voice sugary sweet, patronizing. “Why don’t I take you home? Dawn can drive, right? Why don’t you give her the keys?”

“Why,” Marianne ground out, her eyes flashing with barely restrained anger, “would I want to do that?”

“Aw, c’mon Buttercup, don’t be like that. What would your mother say?”

That was the last straw. “You know, Roland? I really don’t give a shit.”

Dawn and Sunny sucked in their breaths. Marianne _never_ swore. It was so…unladylike. So _rude._

Marianne went over to the elevator and banged on the down arrow. She just wanted to go. Get away from this place, this suffocating life where what everyone wanted her to be and what everyone wanted her to do wasn’t what _she_ wanted to be, what _she_ wanted to do. God, could this elevator go any slower?!

Roland made the mistake of making another attempt to placate her.

“C’mon, Marianne. It was nothing, one little mistake. She was just a friend. You know it’ll be awhile before we graduate. Why not hang out with new people, make new friends along the way? Nothing wrong with that, right? There will be plenty of time for just the two of us once we’re married.”

Apparently the last straw hadn’t been the last straw as Marianne swiftly turned, her Eskrima training pushing to break free. She crouched and did a perfectly executed foot sweep kick, knocking Roland to the ground. She immediately came over him, dropped down to one knee beside him, cocking her right arm back, preparing to place a punch in his solar plexis.

“Marianne!” Dawn screamed, just in time for Marianne to stop the blow mid air. Roland’s expression shifted from stunned to cocky. “Fuck it,” Marianne swore, and proceeded to slap that grin off his face.


	6. Mistreated

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Thank you for your patience; enter Archibald, a.k.a. Bog, and his crew.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know you're wondering how the heck "Bog" will come out of Archibald, but all will be revealed in time, I promise!
> 
> Archibald - genuine and bold  
> Dand (Bog's father) - warrior  
> Duncan (Bog's grandfather) - dark warrior
> 
> Bog and his father do have accents, I just can't write them for anything. So please, do me a favor and just hear their brogue in your head. Thank you.

“Meet my eyes, boy”.

A five year old Archibald looked up at the towering figure of his father and waited. Even seated, his father was imposing, almost larger than life. Archibald stood on the other side of his father’s desk, facing him. His father placed a large, fisted hand on the papers his mother had placed on the desk before she stepped out to let them have their ‘talk’.

“Your mother and I have been discussing your future. I will be away for awhile, taking care of our family businesses. While I am gone, you will follow the plan I have drawn up for you. When you come of age you will step in my place and you must be ready.” His father paused, his icy blue eyes assessing his son. “You think you’re up to it, boy?”

Archibald swallowed. “Yes, sir.”

His father’s eyes narrowed. Then, “Only time will tell, boy. You be sure to follow this plan to the letter. Nothing else matters but this plan. Do you understand?”

“Yes, sir.”

“Your mother has hired some new help. Some of them are…different from what you are used to but she has convinced me of their skills and they are hard workers.”

His father paused a moment before adding, “You are not to speak to them other than to give direction. They probably would not understand you anyway. They are not your equals.  None of the help are.”

“Yes, sir. I understand.” But he didn’t really. What was different about them? What did this father mean by that? ‘Not his equals’?

“Good. Do not fail me. That is all.” He dismissed Archibald with a wave of the hand that had been resting on the papers. _His life plan_.

**********

“Ma,” Archibald asked his mother later that evening, “what does ‘not your equals’ mean?”

Griselda set her book down and looked down at her only child, her precious son, lying on his stomach on the floor of the study, surrounded by maps. He held a magnifying glass in one hand, a pencil poised over a journal, in his other hand. He had been carefully copying down the names of the places he wanted to visit. He loved his maps. He was so much like his father in that way.  His love of maps and his physical likeness to his father is where their similarities ended. Archibald was a more gentle soul, and Griselda worried about their relationship.

Dand was a loyal, hard working man and he loved his family. He just believed that showing someone you cared about them meant providing for them. Griselda had once tried to get him to spend more time with his son, show more affection, let him know that he loved him.

“I work hard, Griselda. Our son has a home, he has food and clothing. He is in want of nothing. That would not be the case if I cared nothing for him.”

Seeing his wife’s dejected look he had relented a bit saying, “Griselda, you are his mother, he has you to show him all the love he needs.”

Griselda could not find it in her heart to be angry at her husband. She was all too aware of how he had been raised. Her father-in-law, Duncan, rest his black soul, had been a cruel man whose wife had died shortly after giving birth to Dand. Dand had been raised by a seemingly endless string of nannies and tutors his father had hired and fired over the years. But what Griselda hated about him the most was how he had passed on his own prejudices and small minded views to his son. And now, much to her dismay, it seemed like history was beginning to repeat itself.

Hmph, not if she had anything to do with it! Duncan could roll over in his grave as much as he wanted, curse her from whatever stage in Purgatory he was in, but she would in no way, allow HER SON to be part of it.

She chose her words carefully, keeping her voice calm. “Why, do you ask, my love?”

Archibald looked down guiltily at his maps. “Father told me you hired some new help and that they were not my…equals?”

Griselda smiled at how he ended his statement with a question. She motioned for him to come over to her and he immediately got up and settled down into her lap. She cradled his head close to her heart and sighed.

“My darling boy, do you see all those maps over there?” He nodded. “The world is a very large, incredible place. You, who are still a wee one, have only known this place, your home. But someday you will visit all those places you’re writing down in your journal. You will meet others who will look different than you, speak different languages, think differently, live differently.  And that is what makes the world an adventure!”

He was silent as he processed this. “So does ‘not being my equal’ mean not being the same as me?”

Griselda winced a bit. “Remember how I said people can think differently than you do? Well, some people believe that different is good and some believe that different is, well, not so good. And some may even go so far as to believe that the way they think is better is than the way someone else thinks. It’s called a difference of opinion.”

Griselda looked down at him and examined his face. His brows were drawn together, his lips pursed as he tried to process what his mother was telling him. Griselda sighed. He was still a baby. She silently cursed her late father-in-law. Curse him for forcing her child to have to worry about something like this at his age.

Suddenly, Griselda remembered a song from one of her favorite musicals, ‘South Pacific’, ‘You’ve Got to be Carefully Taught’. She tried a different approach. “My love, just remember that everyone deserves to be treated with kindness. If you remember that, you will do just fine.

**********

Archibald thought his heart would pop out of his chest. He had lost track of time again. It always seemed to happen whenever he was exploring in the bogs, searching for things to draw in his journal.  Dragonflies were his favorite, although the butterflies were fun to draw too. He shook his head and ran faster.

His father would be so angry if he didn’t show up to dinner on time. He’d be even angrier if he showed up looking as he did now. Archibald had quickly learned that his father’s anger was the most terrifying thing on this Earth. His booming voice could rattle the windows and every word he said could be heard in every room of their three story manor.  It wouldn't surprise him if all of Scotland could hear him!

He ran faster, clutching his journal to his chest. He threw the back door open, startling the people inside. Archibald stopped in his tracks, momentarily forgetting about his father.

Two pairs of dark brown eyes met his sky blue ones. The three of them stood there for a moment, silently taking each other in. The lady was a bit shorter than his mother and had long, shiny black hair. She wore it in a braid, draped over her shoulder. She was wearing a type of dress Archibald had never seen before. It was long, down to her ankles, dark green, and had tiny golden birds and flowers embroidered throughout it. The buttons at the collar looked like they were made of some kind of knotted yarn. And the collar was also different. It stood up, hugging her neck and reached just below the middle of it. The lady moved a bit and Archibald noticed a faint shimmer to the material.

He looked over at the man. He seemed to be shorter than the lady and was bald. Well, not completely bald. He had a few strands of black hair combed over to the side. Archibald’s eyes widened as he noticed that the man also had a braid, but it was much thinner and shorter than the lady’s. He wore a jacket that looked to be made of similar material to the woman’s dress but it was dark brown and had…dragonflies?! embroidered into his.

But what stood out the most were their eyes. They were a rich dark brown, almost black and they had a different shape to them.The man’s eyes showed surprise and nervousness, but the lady’s eyes, after the surprise had passed and recognition took over, showed…kindness? And then she smiled.

Archibald was the first to speak, “W-who are you?”

The lady spoke first, bowing, “Young Master Archibald, I am Song and this is my husband, Zhang. We work for your family.” Her voice was rough and accented. He didn’t recognize it, it was different from his nanny’s who he knew was from England. He liked how she had said his name, sounding out each syllable carefully. He noticed her elbow her husband.

That seemed to snap him out of his frozen stance and he immediately bowed deeply and said, “Young M-Master…Ah-ah,ahibog, I am Zhang. It is an honor to meet you.” Archibald’s eyes were drawn back to Song, who grimaced at her husband’s mis-pronunciation of his name.

She immediately bowed low, “Young Master, I apologize for the offense. Zhang will improve on the pronunciation of your name.”

“No, it’s ok,” Archibald shrugged. He actually kind of liked it. _‘Ah-hi-bog’_. He brightened at a thought that had popped in his head and smiled.

“You don’t have to call me ‘Young Master’. You can call me ‘Bog’, I like it!”

Song and Zhang stared at him in horror. “Oh, no, Young Master, I’m afraid we cannot.”

Griselda walked in at that moment, taking in the state of her young son. He was filthy, which was typical for whenever he came in from the bogs, but...he was smiling!  Her heart did a little twist at the rare sight.  

She had caught the end of their exchange and laughed.  “Oh, Song, don’t be so stuffy. If Archibald would like for you to call him ‘Bog’ go right ahead! It’s so perfect. Just look at him!”

Archibald was indeed covered in mud from the bogs he loved to adventure in. Griselda shook her head and sent him to clean up before dinner. He immediately remembered his father’s temper and ran to get ready.

On the way he heard Song say to his mother, “Mistress, it would not be proper to address Young Master as ‘Bog’, The Master would not like it.” Griselda cackled, “Well _I_ like it! Like mother like son, eh?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Although this song by Deep Purple was released in 1974 and is not technically an 80’s song, I put in here because well, you know…the movie?
> 
> If you're not familiar with the Rogers & Hammerstein's musical, "South Pacifc" (it opened on Broadway in 1949 and a movie was made a few years later), it really is worth the watch. Its romantic tension was based on interracial romance, a strong taboo at the time. If you copy and paste the link below it will take you to a well written article explaining more about the social impact this musical had.
> 
> http://www.npr.org/2014/05/19/308296815/six-words-youve-got-to-be-taught-intolerance
> 
> The song, "You've Got to be Carefully Taught", discusses how one has to be taught to hate. That hate is not something we are just born with. Here are the lyrics:
> 
> You've got to be taught  
> To hate and fear,  
> You've got to be taught  
> From year to year,  
> It's got to be drummed  
> In your dear little ear  
> You've got to be carefully taught.
> 
> You've got to be taught to be afraid  
> Of people whose eyes are oddly made,  
> And people whose skin is a diff'rent shade,  
> You've got to be carefully taught.
> 
> You've got to be taught before it's too late,  
> Before you are six or seven or eight,  
> To hate all the people your relatives hate,  
> You've got to be carefully taught!


	7. Total Eclipse of the Heart

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog's broken heart.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Total Eclipse of the Heart" by Bonnie Tyler

Bog felt like his heart was going to burst out of his chest.

 _'She is the most beautiful creature I ever saw’_ , he thought. He gazed lovingly at the woman he wanted to spend the rest of his life with. His hand was still in his pocket, grasping the small box that held their future inside. He watched her approach him, noting her delicate grace and admiring the way her hair moved as she walked closer.

They had just graduated from college, and according to the _'life plan'_ that had been made for him years ago, it was time for the next phase.  He had grown tall, like his father, but where his father had been more stout, Bog was more lanky.  Bog knew he was not handsome.  He had inherited his father’s sharp features, aquiline nose and fierce scowl.  And on the rare occaision when he was pushed past the limits of his patience, he had a foul temper as well.  

He was taking her to a black tie event, an art exhibition she had been excited to see.  The perfect place to ask her the question that had been burning in his heart since when they first met.  He gave the small velvet box in his pocket one last squeeze.  Smiling, he stepped away from his car and opened the door for her.

This was going to be the best night of his life. He just knew it.

**********

It was the worst night of his life.

Bog sat alone in his car, parked in his driveway. The conversation playing over and over in his mind, mocking him. She hadn’t loved him. Not in _‘that way’_. _‘They were great friends! Why change things?’_

But no, he couldn’t leave it at that. He had to pry, had to keep pushing until she finally broke down in tears and let him know that she was already in love with someone else. He vaguely remembered taking her home and her apologizing as they said their good-byes.

 _’We’re still friends, right?’_ she had asked. _‘No hard feelings?’_

He had reassured her that all was well and left.

He stared down at his hands still gripping the steering wheel. Suddenly, he felt cramped. He threw open the door and ran. He ran, tearing off the bowtie that was choking him and tossing it aside. His long fingers tore at his collar, popping off buttons. The tuxedo jacket was the next to go. He ran until his lungs burned and his muscles ached, stopping only when his soul recognized it’s home. His bog. He heaved the small box into the murky waters and crumpled down into the foliage, his heart shattering under a wave of despair.

**********

Griselda had been too excited to sleep, knowing that tonight was the night her son would propose. His intended was a lovely girl, an artist, and she knew Bog was head over heels in love with her. She had been sitting in the window seat facing the drive and had been reading and sipping tea when she heard him arrive.

She knew something was wrong when he didn’t get out of the car. She waited. An eternity seemed to go by until suddenly Bog bolted out of his car and ran.

Suspicions confirmed and hopes dashed, she watched him go. She knew exactly where he was headed. Tears began to fall as her heart hurt for her little boy. No, he was no longer a boy, he was a grown man now, but he would forever be her little boy in her heart.

She knew what needed to be done. She rose slowly and checked the hour. She picked up the phone and placed an overseas call.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I know things have been pretty heavy so far, but please hang in there! Bog meets Dawn in the next chapter and things get lighter, how could they not...cuz, you know...DAWN?! Oh, and Sugar Plum too. *giggles*


	8. Maniac

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dawn meets Bog. Bog meets his aunt, Plumeria, a.k.a. Sugar Plum Fairy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Maniac" by Michael Sembello
> 
> Walkman - portable cassette player
> 
> Cassette tape - a magnetic tape recording format for audio recording and playback
> 
> AC/DC - Australian hard rock band, considered to be pioneers of heavy metal

She was _so_ late. Marianne would kill her if she knew she was going to be late to class.  Again.  She couldn’t help it! It wasn’t her fault that her curling iron had decided to die today and she had to end up wasting time trying to make her hair look decent.

She put on her headphones, pressed play and turned up the volume on her walkman to try to drown out the Marianne voice lecturing her inside her head. It didn’t help, she could still hear the voice, raised in frustration, _‘You drive me crazy!’_.

Dawn sighed. She was beginning to regret cutting her hair short. Marianne teased her about going through a New Wave/Punk Rock phase, but Dawn loved how her head felt lighter and how totally awesome she looked…when her curling iron worked. She had to settle for wearing her neon pink terry cloth headband to keep her hair out of her eyes.

Speaking of eyes, she really should’ve been looking where she was going because she ended up running into a wall. She squealed and dropped her walkman. The wall let out a pained grunt and its hands reached for her shoulders, steadying her. Dawn opened her eyes and found herself eye to eye with an AC/DC pin attached to a jean jacket. She looked up…and up…and up, until her eyes met frosty blue ones.

“Whoa, you’re like, super tall!” she blurted.

The wall, who looked really unhappy, if his scowl was any indicator, grunted. For a moment, Dawn thought maybe she should be a bit scared. But then the wall bent down to pick up her fallen walkman.

“I hope it’s not broken,” the wall said as he handed it to her, still scowling.

“Oh.  My.  God."  She emphasized each word, turning each of them into a sentence of their own.  "Your accent is totally awesome! Where are you from? Oh, hi, I’m Dawn, by the way. I’m on my way to class. Are you new here? Is that why I haven’t seen you before? So sorry I ran into you, I was on my way to class. Wait, did I say that already?” She looked up at the sky, placing her index finger on her chin as she tried to answer her own question.

Bog looked down at this crazy creature in front of him. She was a wee thing, her head barely reaching the middle of his chest. Her hair was wild and crazy, a chocolate poof rising out of a garish piece of cloth she had around her head. She had obviously been in a hurry seeing how she missed his towering frame walking toward her.

“Oh, hi, I’m Dawn! Dawn Lakapati.  Nice to meet you!” she extended a tiny hand toward him.

Bog’s scowl deepened. He didn’t really want to touch this person whom he suspected may be a bit touched in the head, but her bright brown eyes looked up at him, wide, expecting, waiting. He turned his head, causing his neck to make a cracking noise, cleared his throat and took her hand in his. “Nice to meet you,” he grumbled.

“So, what’s your name?”

Again with the big eyes.  He released her hand and placed his in his pocket. “Er, Bog. Bog King.”

“OOoohh, Boggie, it’s so great you’re here! It’s really a great school, you're going to love it!”

“Bog.” He corrected, shaking his head at her assumption. He had said nothing about attending school here. “I’m not…”

“Ooooh, you play guitar! So awesome! My sister is learning too.”

Ah, yes, Bog had completely forgotten he had his guitar case slung over his shoulder.

The girl’s eyes widened suddenly and she squeaked, looking at her watch. “Oh, no, is that the time?! Marianne is so going to kill me! It was nice meeting you, Boggie, but I gotta go! I’ll catch you later, okay? Byeeeee!” she ran off, one hand waving good-bye.

It wasn’t until a few moments later until Bog could respond with, “Bog”.

**********

Bog stood outside his aunt’s office door.

_Professor Plumeria Dryad_

_Chair, Voice Department_

He could hear muffled voices coming from her office so he decided to wait instead of knocking.

He was a long way from home. After that one, fateful day, his mother had told him that she was sending him for a long overdue trip to America, to visit her sister, Plumeria. Indefinitely.

Bog sighed. His mother wouldn’t take no for an answer, informing him that an overseas trip was part of that damned life plan of his. He desperately wanted to tell her what he thought she could do with that cursed piece of paper, but held back, knowing that she only meant well.

Looking around, seeing the diversity of the student population, he relaxed a bit. He thought back to the maps he had loved as a child. When he used to dream about traveling and seeing the world, jotting down adventures in his precious journals.

Adventures. _‘Think of this trip as an adventure!’_ His mother had excitedly declared.

He couldn’t quite bring himself to admit it, but he was missing her a bit already. He scowled at the thought. A twenty-six year old man should not be thinking about missing his ma.

The door to his aunt’s office opened and he turned.

“Boggy!”

Oh, no. It was the wee crazy thing he had met earlier.

“Bog.” he reflexively corrected.

“Archibald! Er, Bog. You made it! Welcome! How do you know Dawn? It’s so good to see you making friends already! Were you able to find my office okay? Well, you're standing here, so I guess you did! Welcome! Did I say that already?” His aunt rushed to give him a hug.

Oh, heaven help him he was surrounded by wee crazy folk. The two pixieish women were all smiles and giggles and he fiercely pushed down the urge to run away.

“Aunt Plumeria.” he intoned as he stiffly returned her embrace, releasing her as quickly as he could without appearing rude.

“Oh, heavens, Bog, why so formal? And why the scowl? You used to call me your Auntie Plum, remember?”

The Dawn creature laughed, “Oh, that’s so cuuute! And we all call you Professor Plum so it’s, like, totally perfect!”

Bog thought he would give himself a migraine from the effort it took him to keep from rolling his eyes at the pair.

“Dawn is one of my students. We were just finishing up a nice chat about her… _studies_.”  His aunt's voice took on what he assumed was her _'professor tone'_ , emphasizing the word, _studies_ and shooting the crazy girl a pointed look.

Dawn immediately looked down and Bog swore she appeared to wither, losing her smiles and brightness, looking even smaller than before, if that was possible. For reasons unknown, he felt a bit…sorry for her.

“Um, yes, Professor. I will remember our talk.” she replied sullenly.

She gasped suddenly and instantly ‘unwithered’ herself. “Oh, my god! Sorry, Professor.  Sorry, Boggie, I gotta go! Marianne is going to kill me!”

She immediately ran off, waving goodbye to them as she went, Bog barely making out her ramblings of how she was going to be _‘dead, dead, dead’_ at the hands of one _‘Marianne’_.

“Bog.” He said toward the invisible wake of her invisible dust trail.

 _“Boggy?!"_  His aunt giggled.  "Oh, that is so sweet! I will have to give your mother a call and let her know you’ve already made a friend! And such a pretty one too!”

Bog rubbed at the back of his neck, trying to stop the headache he felt building there.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Marianne and Dawn's last name, 'Lakapati', is the Filipino goddess of fields and lands. Her themes are prayer, harvest, thanksgiving, luck and protection. Her symbols are harvested foods. In the language of the Philippines, this Goddess’s name literally means ‘giver of food’. She diligently promotes abundance of fields and crops, and She protects farm animals from disease.


	9. Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne meet.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Do You Really Wanna Hurt Me" by Culture Club
> 
> Baston - (Spanish and Filipino for "cane") is one of the primary weapons of Arnis and Filipino martial arts. It is also known as yantok, olisi, palo, pamalo, garrote, caña, cane, arnis stick, eskrima stick or simply, stick.
> 
> Doble Baston - A group of techniques involving two sticks. This style requires the user to use both left and right weapons in an equal manner; many co-ordination drills are used in this style to help the practitioner become more ambidextrous. It is the section of the art that is taught mainly at the intermediate levels and above and is considered one of the most important areas of learning in the art.

Marianne hiked through the wooded area bordering the campus toward her secret place.  She took a different path every time so as to avoid creating a trail for someone else to find her private, secluded spot.  Her secret place was hidden in the redwood groves about a mile out from the carefully manicured lawns surrounding the campus.  She really didn’t need to worry about making trails, to her knowledge none of the students or faculty ever ventured beyond the lawns.  But the thought of keeping the area free of any tells that humans had been here made her kind of…happy.  She didn't know why.  But she wasn't happy now.

When she finally reached her destination, she stopped and closed her eyes, making herself take slow, long, calming breaths to help her settle her mind.  Her eyes still closed, she went still and opened her senses. 

She felt the trickles of warmth touching her face from the sunlight filtering down through the redwood canopy.  She heard the faint buzzing of the bugs flitting about the clusters of flowers near her feet.  She smelled the clean, sharp, but gently fragrant air around her, the familiar scent of the redwoods.  She was home.  For that moment, she was at peace. 

She opened her eyes and walked over to the stump of an old redwood that had been cut down ages ago, if the growth shooting out of it's center was any indication.  It had been a large one and it always made Marianne feel a touch of sadness that its majestic life had been cut short.  She placed her hand on it and greeted it, thanking it for providing her with a place to rest.  She placed her backpack on it and took out her pair of rattan bastons, holding one stick in each hand.  Walking out into the open center of the grove, she took in a deep breath, bowed respectfully to the forest and began her warm up routine to prepare for doble baston.

Roland was such an ass.  The thought popped into her mind, destroying her calm.  It had been almost three years since the Pixies' party.  Three years since she so satisfyingly knocked him down and slapped him hard enough to leave a bruise.  The corner of her mouth twitched upward as she fantasized what that bruise would've looked like if she had actually punched him.

Poor Dawn and Sunny had been traumatized by her violence, so shocked and stunned that they spoke not one word on the car ride home.  That was the only regret she had felt for the whole damn affair; upsetting her sister and friend, making them worry even more about her.  But Roland had thankfully seemed to recover from the whole thing and figure out that he should forget about her and move on.  So for the past three years she had lived her life Roland free.

She scowled and began the weaving motions of the training exercise.  Feeling her muscles begin to heat and loosen up, she turned to the stump she used to practice her attacks.  This redwood had at some point been hit by lightning, causing  it to catch on fire.  The insides burned out but the bark remained, leaving a hollowed out center large enough for her to camp out in, if she desired. 

Her attacks intensified as she remembered the message Roland had left on her answering machine.  

'Buttercup, it's me, Roland. You know, I've been thinking about you and would love to take you to dinner sometime.  For old times sake.  Gimme a call, sweetheart.  I'll be waiting.'

The sound of his smooth voice had made her skin crawl.  What the hell could he possibly want with her now?  She hadn't bothered writing down the phone number he left, but she had wondered at how the heck he had gotten hers.  Great.  Now she'd have to change it.  She let out a yell of frustration, the attacks on the dead tree intensifying, her rhythmic motions quickening.

Then she heard someone behind her clear their throat.  She was supposed to be alone out here, only Dawn and Sunny knew of this place and they were in class.  Instinctively she twirled toward the sound and attacked.

 **********

Bog was homesick.  He would never admit that to anyone, but he was homesick.  His mother had called him early that morning, apparently forgetting about the time difference.  Upon hearing her voice, he had felt for a moment that he was back in his own room, his beloved bogs just a few miles out, calling to him to come and explore. But he wasn’t home.  He was thousands of miles away in a foreign place where the only people he knew were a crazy girl and his even crazier aunt.

His aunt, crazy as she was, was incredibly intuitive and seemed to sense Bog's unhappiness.  She had told him of the redwood forest surrounding the school so here he was, talking a walk and trying to distract himself with the change of scenery.  His foot kicked against something and he looked down.  He picked up the fallen branch and turned it over in his hand, testing the weight.  He smiled as he took out his Swiss Army folding knife  and sat.  He began to whittle away at the branch in hopes of making it into a decent walking stick.

After awhile, he stood, brushing off the wood bits and dust from his lap, and inspected his handiwork.  It was rough as he had no sandpaper on hand to smooth it out, but it gave it an aged look, which he liked.  He placed the tapered end on the ground.  The length was perfect.  Smiling, and feeling much better than he had when he entered the forest, he continued on his way.

**********

He was lost.  He was angry that he was lost and his temper flared even more when his stomach growled again and his parched throat reminded him of his thirst.  How stupid could he be?  He NEVER got lost.  NEVER.  But here he was, trying to get his bearings by looking up toward the sun but unable to because the redwood canopy he had been admiring just moments before was thicker here, blocking enough of the sun and distorting the sunbeams so as to not be able to gain his bearings.

He sighed, rubbing the back of his neck, wondering why the hell he had ever agreed to come to America in the first place.  Then he saw a movement.  He stilled, turning his head slowly toward where he saw the motion and waited.  He caught sight of a kid wearing a backpack heading somewhere.  He looked around, trying to see where its parents were but saw no one else.  Not wanting to startle the child, he quietly followed a ways behind, his years of tracking bugs and creatures through his bogs paying off.  He saw the kid reach a clearing and stop.  The spot he was in gave him a good view of the clearing so he crouched down silently, curious to see what the kid was going to do.

After a few moments of stillness, it moved toward a huge tree stump and placed it's hand on it for a heartbeat before setting their backpack down on it.  His eyes widened as the kid took out a couple of sticks about two and half to three feet long and hold one in each hand.  He continued to watch as the kid walked out toward the middle of the clearing, bow and begin to twirl the sticks around in quick, fluid, matching motions.  As the kid began to move his eyes were drawn down to watch the kid's footwork.  Rhythmic, flowing, moving in a triangular pattern.

He had taken a few years of fencing (it was on the list) and while he could appreciate good footwork and weapons handling, he had never before seen what he was seeing now.  It was amazing.  "Impressive," he whispered under his breath.  

And then the kid turned and started to attack a hollowed out tree stump.  He could only stare at the quick fluid motions which were almost a blur.  He was startled by an eerily unworldly scream and watched as the tiny creature began attacking with a ferocity that almost scared him.

Who was this kid?  Were they even real?  He slowly got up and walked toward the clearing.  The kid was so focused on it's attacks it didn't hear him approach.  He stopped a few feet away from it and cleared his throat to get their attention.

He was never so thankful for that damn life plan as he was now.  His fencing training kicked in and he was able to use his walking stick to block the kid's stick from hitting him on the side of his neck.

"Whoa, whoa, whoa!"  Bog yelled. 

"Who the hell are you?  What are you doing here?"  the kid demanded, moving quickly back a few paces and holding the sticks up in an offensive position, poised to attack again. 

 _Kid?_   He looked down and met the dark amber eyes flashing angrily up at him.  He took in a quick assessment of the wee thing before him.  Was everyone here tiny or was it just him?  The _'kid'_ was a girl!

"Easy, tough girl, I was just taking a walk.  My aunt is a professor here, Professor Dryad?  I think everyone here calls her Professor Plum."

Marianne took in the giant standing before her.  Well, maybe not a giant, but hell, he was tall!  And his accent…European of some sort, she couldn't quite make it out.  He looked nothing like Professor Plum.  He was tall, lean.  His face was long and angular, all sharp edges, and unshaven.  But his eyes.  His eyes.  They were an intense blue, cutting through to her despite the growing shadows of the redwood forest. 

It was getting late.  And she was out here, alone, in the middle of a redwood grove, with a man who was having a strange effect on her nerves.  She flinched when he moved toward her, holding out his hand.

"I'm Bog.  Bog King, you know, Professor Plum's nephew?"  He could kick himself.  He sounded like a complete idiot!  

"Marianne,"  she answered through clenched teeth, not moving from her position. 

"Marianne…." Bog repeated, dropping his hand.  Where had he heard that name before?  He looked her over again, taking in her hair, which was short and a dark chocolate brown, reddish highlights were the sun touched it.  He looked at her heart shaped face, the cute shape of her nose and the eyes…he had seen those eyes before…

"Marianne," he repeated slowly, his mind working overtime as he grasped for something that was eluding him. 

Marianne was beginning to worry.  He kept staring at her, saying her name in that interesting accent of his.  Her name shouldn't sound so good, coming from a potentially crazy person.  Her grip tightened on her batons and she readied herself. 

Bog's eyes widened and he groaned.  "Do you have a sister named Dawn?"

Marianne nearly dropped her sticks.  Of all the things he could say…"Maybe…"

The last detail dropped into place and Bog started laughing.  He looked over at her and laughed even more.

Okay, time to just get ready to run, Marianne thought as this weirdo was seriously starting to freak her out.  Maybe that's what her nerves were trying to tell her earlier.  But one look at his long legs and she seriously doubted she could out run him.

"Do you mind telling me what the hell is so damn funny?"

The idiot just leaned over more onto his walking stick and laughed even harder.  Marianne just wanted to kick that damn stick out from under him and watch him fall.  She grit her teeth and decided to wait instead. 

When he finally seemed to start calming down, she asked again,  "Are you ready to tell me what you're laughing about now?"

Bog wiped at the tears leaking from his eyes.  Damn it felt good to laugh.  "I met your sister earlier today.  Twice."

Marianne was still at a loss.  "And, that's funny because…?"

"Because both times I met her she mentioned that you were going to kill her.  I thought that was just an expression meaning that you'd be angry with her but having just witnessed you killing that poor tree over there…" 

To Marianne's dismay that got him started laughing again.  She'd had enough.  Her temper flared anew and In a flash she honed in on the stick he was leaning on and kicked it out from under him.  To her surprise, he didn't just fall like she had expected him to. He did a quick roll and was back up on his feet in an instant, laughter still in his eyes.  He held up his hands in surrender.

"Sorry!  It's just that I've never seen anyone do what you did."

Marianne's eyes narrowed.  "How long had you been spying on me?"

"Hey, I wasn't spying.  I was hiking and saw you walk over here, that's all."

"You really are Professor Plum's nephew?"

Bog rolled his eyes at that.  "Have you met my aunt?  Do you know of anyone who would just make that up?"

It was Marianne's turn to laugh because she did indeed know the Professor.  She was infamous for her flawless designer style and insatiable need to play matchmaker.  And while she meant well, she could be, well, a bit irritating at times.

"I guess you're right.  Sorry for attacking you.  You startled me.  I've been coming here for a few years now and I've never seen anyone else out here.  I am Marianne, and yes, I am Dawn's sister."  She tucked one stick under her arm (Bog noticed she kept the other one firmly grasped in her other hand) and held out her stick-less hand.

Bog's hand engulfed hers and their eyes met.  A strange, mysterious moment passed and Marianne quickly removed her hand. Bog felt his hand miss the warmth of it.  He quickly stuffed it in his jacket pocket.  He was about to say something when his stomach growled.  Loudly. 

Marianne laughed at the sound and the faint blush that crept into Bog's cheeks.  

"Hungry are we?"  To her dismay, her stomach growled in return.  Her eyes flew to his.  Earth met sky and time seemed to stand still.

They both broke down into laughing fits.

**********

Plum was starting to worry.  She scanned the border where the lawns ended and the groves began, but didn't see him.  Bog had left quite some time ago, to take walk through the redwood groves.  In hindsight, maybe she should've seen if there were any maps of the hiking trails she had told him about and given him one.  Wait, were there even any hiking trails out there?  Now that she thought about it, no one she knew ever went out there.  Oh, dear.  She would have to deal with the wrath of Griselda if she let anything bad happen to her little boy.  Plum chuckled at that.  Bog was definitely NOT little anymore.  

She was just about to head over there herself when a movement caught her eye.  Squinting and holding up her hand to shield the setting sun's light from her eyes, she tried to make out who was coming out of the groves.  A few moments later and she recognized Bog's tall, lanky figure.  She let out a sigh of relief...but who was that with him?  Her eyes widened as she recognized Marianne.  As she watched them get closer she could see them laughing.  She leaned forward and squinted more to try and get a better look.  After a few moments, she felt herself getting the giddy sensation she got whenever she could sense something brewing between people...Bog and Marianne...hmmm...

She watched them turn toward the path that led away from campus and toward the parking lot.  They stopped at Bog's car and Marianne waved good-bye and began to walk away.  Plum just about drooled when she saw Bog call her back, open the door of his car and offer her a ride.  Plum clasped her hands together and bit her lower lip in anticipation...oh, this was getting good!  Marianne got in and Plum just about fainted from excitement.

 When she no longer could see the car, she ran back to her office to make an overseas call.  Time difference be damned.

 

 

 

 

 


	10. Can't Fight This Feeling

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Griselda and Plum plot.  
> The Dark Forest Cafe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Can't Fight This Feeling" by REO Speedwagon
> 
> "Red Sonja" - 80's movie starring Arnold Schwarzenegger and Brigitte Nielsen  
> Red Sonja is a warrior with a magic sword, on a mission to avenge her sister's death and seek vengeance on the evil queen who murdered her family and had her loyal warriors rape her.

"Grizzy, I just know there's something there!  I sensed it!"

Griselda shook her head at her sisters exclamation.  _'Some people never change,'_ she thought to herself.

"Grizzy?  Are you there?  Is the connection clear?"

"Yes, Plum.  I heard you.  So what exactly was it that you sensed?"

Griselda's eyes rolled at her sister's familiar giggle and knew what was coming…

"True love, silly!"  Plum was beside herself with giddiness.

"He's only been there a few days, Plum.  And I don't think he's completely over what happened that fateful day, remember?  I really don't think it's possible…"

"Of course you don't," Plum interrupted with a huff.  "You always _think_.  You never _feel_!"

Griselda knew better than to try to convince her sister otherwise.  Better to just hear her out.  Less time and energy was wasted that way.

"Okay, Plum.  I’m listening."

Plum let out a victorious, "Yaaaaaaaayyyy!  That took forever!"

Griselda just sighed and shook her head.

Plum put on her signature conspiratorial voice.  "Okay, Grizzy," she whispered intensely.  "Here's the plan. Take notes." 

**********

Marianne was seriously annoyed.  She glared at the keyboard, grinding her teeth.  She had been trying to make the final edits on her composition for over an hour.  Every time she got close to figuring out what chord progression she wanted to use Dawn and Sunny would break out in giggles and laughter, then go back to whispering about something or other.  Even her headphones couldn’t drown them out.

"Um, guys?  Do you really have to work on that here?  Now?  I gotta finish this composition.  It's due tomorrow!"

Dawn stood up and faced her, and despite Marianne's irritation, she laughed at the sight.  Dawn had streaks of paint in her hair and on various areas of her face, her art smock a kaleidoscope of color.  And Sunny was her paint spatter twin.

"Excuse me, Marianne, but you're not the only one under pressure here."  She waved over at the panel they were working on.  It was part of a set they were building for the upcoming drama department's production.

"Why are you guys working on that here?  Shouldn't you be doing that at school?"

"Sorry, Marianne, it's my fault.  I got behind with studying for finals so I asked Dawn if I could finish it here."  Sunny's face went red at the admission and he looked guilty.  Which meant he was covering for Dawn.  Again.

Marianne sighed.  "Okay, Dawn.  Spill."

Dawn's eyes widened comically and she actually looked surprised.  Marianne raised an eyebrow.  Her drama skills were improving.

"Dawn, I'm waiting."  Marianne started to count to ten in her head.  She got to three… 

"Okay, okay!"  Dawn threw up her hands in defeat.  "It's my fault.  I was the one who fell behind.  I asked Sunny to help me."

Marianne stood and placed her hands on Dawn's shoulders.  "Dawn, I'm disappointed that you fell behind again.   But the fact that you lied and got Sunny to help you in your lie…?  When are you going to grow up, Dawn?  Get your head out of the clouds!" 

Dawn scowled and shook her shoulders to release Marianne's grip on them.  "You're not Mom, Marianne.  And I'm not a kid anymore.  I'm 18!  You can't tell me what to do!"

Marianne was speechless.  Dawn had never spoken to her like that before.  And she had brought up Mom.

Marianne felt a thickening in her throat, making it hard to breathe.  She slowly turned, grabbed her bag and started walking toward the door.  "You're right, Dawn.  I'm not mom and you're not a kid anymore.  I'm sorry."

"Marianne!"  Dawn started for her sister, hating herself for her callous outburst.  "Where are you going?" 

"Out."  The door closed behind her with a resounding, 'click'.

**********

Bog's head was going to explode.  He walked over to the medicine cabinet to grab some Tylenol and swore when he remembered he didn't have any.  He considered waiting his headache out but then his mind wandered back to the conversation he just had with his mom and decided he definitely needed the meds.  Or a drink.  Or both.  Resigned, he headed back to his bedroom to get dressed.

His mother had come up with a few hare-brained ideas over the years but this one came straight out of the blue.

"Bog.  I just bought a café and I want you to run it."  His mother was never one to mince words.  "It's right down the block from where you're staying.  I got it for a steal since the idiot who owned it ran it to the ground.  It's got potential, and if you can turn it around we'll discuss your return date.  I'll be sending Song and Zhang to help you run it.  I've given the three of you power of attorney so you can take care of everything.  I'll want weekly reports by phone. You can fax the quarterly reports to me."

He never got in a word.  His mother was in her business mode and he had learned to just go with the flow.  Once she made up her mind there was no telling her 'no'.

But he did manage to squeeze in, "What about school?"

"Bog.  You have two degrees and a master's.  You don't need anymore.  You need to move on to the next thing on your life plan.  _'Run a successful business'_.  Besides, your Auntie Plum hadn't planned on having you study there.  She wanted you there on more of a  consultant basis."

Bog rubbed his forehead, trying to soothe the ache building there.  "I thought this trip abroad was only going to be for a few weeks.  It could take years to get this business profitable."

Griselda heard the homesickness in her son's voice and her heart went out to him.  She knew what it was like to be a stranger in a strange land.  But she knew he needed this challenge.  While she knew Plum's ulterior motive was to have fun matchmaking, Griselda had agreed to her sister's crazy scheme because she knew it would be good for him.  Nothing like a little distance, hard work and time to help heal a broken heart.

"Bog," she said gently, the business tone gone, "why don't you go take a look at the place?  It's called The Dark Forest Café.  Do some reconnaissance, get a feel for the business.  It will be a few days before Song and Zhang arrive.  Take that time to patronize the place and see what you think." 

**********

Bog stepped out onto the sidewalk outside his apartment building and took in a deep breath.  The air was not the freshest he had breathed but it definitely had character. 

A pair of dark amber eyes popped up in his mind.  Speaking of character…he chuckled softly as he remembered his 'not a date' dinner with Marianne. They had both been starving so it had just made sense to ask her if she wanted to get something to eat.  She accepted on the terms that they go dutch, each paying their own way, because you know, _'this isn't a date'._

He had found himself comfortably at ease with her and they surprisingly had a lot in common.  Their conversation stayed on safe topics such as movies, music, school and her eskrima training, but when he had asked about her family, she had clammed up and changed the subject.  He didn't pry.  

He had walked her home since she didn't live far from the restaurant where they had eaten and with a _'see you around school'_ , that was that.  It had been a few days since that night and he wondered what she was doing right now.  Probably studying. 

Aunt Plum had chosen to visit his apartment the day after his 'not a date' dinner with Marianne, bearing housewarming gifts. For some inexplicable reason she felt compelled to tell Bog every little detail she knew about Marianne.  Bog shook his head and smiled.  According to his Aunt, Marianne was a certified princess, perfect in every way.  Bog had laughed at that, telling his Aunt that Marianne was more of a Red Sonja than a princess.  She didn’t get the reference.  The one detail she felt the need to state repeatedly was that Marianne was single.  When he had told her that he didn't care about Marianne being single, that he wasn't interested in her, _in anyone_ , his infuriating Aunt just laughed.

He looked down at the piece of paper in his hand where he had written down the address his mother had given him. This was the place. He took in the store front of the café and frowned.  While the name of the place was The Dark Forest Café, the décor screamed the opposite.  The lighting was bright, garish, and the furniture inside looked like someone had pilfered it from a 1950's diner.  Red vinyl covered seats, Formica tables…and was that an old, rusty engine block in the corner?  No wonder this place was going under.

But despite the gaudy décor, there seemed to be a decent crowd for a weeknight.  Curious, he opened the door and went inside.  When he passed the foyer, he immediately noticed a stage along the back wall, off to the right.  It had a small, open area in front that he suspected could double as a dance floor or seating for an audience. An area to the left of the stage was decorated with various artwork.  He heard music and saw that it came from a jukebox tucked away in a corner by the restrooms.  There were several booths lining the wall to the left of him,  those lovely Formica tables spread randomly about the center of the café.  The glass case display showcased standard café fare and he could see the espresso bar behind it.  One lone barista manned the counter and he didn’t see anyone working the floor.

He scanned the crowd.  It was a relatively young one, possibly conservatory students, considering the proximity to the school.  There were a few scattered groups of people around the jukebox, one study group at a booth and a lone person sitting  at  a Formica table, looking out the window facing the street.  He knew that profile…

"Marianne?"

She jumped, her hands reaching for what he suspected was her eskrima sticks.  She had told him she always had a pair sticking out of her backpack.  She tensed when she realized her backpack wasn’t there but then relaxed and smiled when she saw Bog.  Her reflexes were nothing short of amazing, although he wondered why she was always on the defensive, why she felt the need to carry her batons all the time.

"What's the matter, tough girl?  Cat got your sticks?"

Marianne groaned.  "You do realize that you just butchered a perfectly good idiom, don't you?"  She motioned for him to take the empty seat across from her.  He quickly accepted her silent invitation and sat down.

Bog looked at her and noticed she had been crying.  Instantly uncomfortable, he turned his head, making his neck crack and cleared his throat.  "Would you like me to, uh…that is, would you like to be alone?"

Marianne's deep amber eyes locked into his, and he felt a tightening in his chest.  He prayed she wouldn't cry in front of him.  Tears were always his undoing.  She sighed deeply instead, turning her head to look out the window again. 

"No," she said softly, almost a whisper.  "Stay.  Please.  It's nice to see a friendly face."

Bog immediately scowled, putting on an expression of intense, barely restrained anger and distain he knew people found intimidating.  His father would've been proud.

He growled, "Friendly?  Surely you jest!"

Marianne turned to face him, eyes widening.  She sucked in a breath, held it a moment, and burst out laughing.

"Your look, sir.  It wounds.  But, never fear it's just a flesh wound.  I shall survive!"

Bog straightened, indignant look replacing his scowl.  "You, madam, have managed to single handedly butcher one of the greatest lines known in the kingdom of moviedom!  You shall be thrown upon the Iron Maiden and made to suffer!"

"Oh, no!" Marianne wailed, palms of her hands covering her cheeks.  "Whatever shall I do?  Help, help!  I’m being repressed!"

They melted into fits of laughter over the butchering of some scenes from the movies, 'Monty Python and the Holy Grail' and "Bill & Ted's Excellent Adventure".

Mission accomplished.  Bog gave himself a mental pat on his shoulder.

Once Marianne was calm enough, she took a sip of her coffee.  "Thanks, Bog."

He felt warmth creeping up the back of his neck and rubbed at it.

They fell into a comfortable silence both looking out the window, people watching.  Well, she was watching the people, he was watching her.

She was such an enigma.  He'd never met anyone like her.  She was all contradictions.  She was so petite and looked so fragile, yet he knew first hand that she was strong, capable of taking care of herself and her sister.  Plum had described her as a model student a hard worker, very focused and intense.  But Marianne had a wry sense of humor, eerily similar to his own and when she laughed, it was genuine.  Her eyes would glow and she radiated joy.  But when he looked closely, he knew her eyes held a hidden pain and he felt…connected to her somehow.

And that confused him.  The connection.  He had only met her twice and yet there was this inexplicable feeling of...having known her before.  It was a sensation that he had to admit he hadn't felt when he had fallen in love with...well, it was strange and thought provoking.  Maybe it was knowing that she wasn't a stranger to heartache.  But she was so young.  What could she have experienced to put that sadness in her eyes? _'Maybe you should just ask.'_ His inner, prying self prodded.

"Marianne."

"Hmmm?"

"I…I wanted to ask you something."

She turned to look at him and he chickened out. 

"Um, do you come here often?"

Marianne laughed and he found himself smiling at the sound. "Why do you want to know?" She asked coyly, batting her lashes at him.  "I bet you ask all the ladies that, you smooth talker, you."

It was his turn to laugh.  "I, uh, was asking because I heard this place may be closing down."

He did not expect her passionate response.  "Are you joking?!  This place can't close!  It's where all the conservatory students hang out.  How do you know this?"

"I think I overheard something the other day.  I was just curious."

Marianne relaxed a bit.  "The original owner of this place was a graduate of the school.  He opened up this place in the '50's as a place where conservatory students could showcase their work and practice their skills and the community could come and get exposure to the arts."

Ah, that explained the décor.

She stood, grabbed his hand, and led him over to the wall displaying the art.  He felt his face flushing at the way she seemed so comfortable holding his hand, like it was something they did all the time, and then berated himself for acting like a kid.

"Bog, all the work on this wall is done by current students.  Each painting is numbered and people can write down their comments, questions, feedback, whatever, on slips of paper and place them in the box here.  It's a wonderful, anonymous system that helps students grow their skills and confidence."  She picked up a slip of  paper and held it up to him.

"Let's say I'm looking at number 3, and it moves me.  I write '#3' at the top of the slip and then my comment, fold it in half and put in in the box.  At the end of each week, a designated student sorts the slips and places them in the corresponding cubbies behind that curtain and the artists come and pick them up."

She led him over to the stage.  "Students put on free performances up here.  Sometimes it’s a single scene from a play, sometimes a whole production.  The previous owner used to have a set schedule.  Sundays were when artwork was rotated, Mondays were stage productions, Tuesdays, instrumentalists, you get the idea."

Bog was definitely intrigued.  Marianne continued.

"The previous owner, who was a son of the original owner, got sick and had to sell.  When the new owner took over the middle of my freshman year, the schedule began to fall apart.  No one knew who the new owner was and no one ever saw them.  Students stopped hanging out as much as no one was showcasing anything.  And with no shows, no non-student customers.  So now, this place has mostly become a study hall that offers caffeine and carbs.  And not very good ones at that."  She wrinkled her nose.

"I'm afraid that in  a few years, there won't be any students left who know about the history of this place as they will all eventually graduate and move on.  So, in a way, I wasn't really surprised when you said you overheard that this place may close down."

Bog had been watching her carefully, listening to what she _wasn't_ saying more than what she _was_ saying.  "Do you know why this place was named The Dark Forest Café?"

Marianne, shook head.  "I don't know for sure but I think the original owner was a fan of Shakespeare and that his favorite work was 'A Midsummer Night's Dream'.  At least, that's one theory."  She took a look around.  "Doesn't really seem to fit the décor though, does it?"

Bog decided to take a risk.  "Why do you love this place so much?"

Marianne looked at him in surprise.  She opened her mouth to respond, then closed it.  Bog waited.

"I don't really know."  And it was the truth.  She hadn't realized how much she loved the cafe until Bog had asked her why she did.  The fact that he sensed her attachment to this place made her confused.  This was only the second time they had met and yet, it seemed in some ways, he knew her better than she knew herself.

When it didn’t seem like she was going to say anymore, Bog, who had never been comfortable with physical contact, found himself putting his arm gently around her shoulders and guiding her to the counter.  "So.  Are you in the mood for some 'not very good' caffeine and carbs?"

Marianne's eyes gleamed.  "When am I not?"

Right then and there, Bog decided he would take up his mother's challenge.  You know, so he could cross it off that damn life plan of his. 

 

 

 

 


	11. Under Pressure

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The Dark Forest Cafe gets some lofe.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "Under Pressure" by Queen, David Bowie
> 
> Song and Zhang's last name, 'Guo', means 'boundary', and indicates someone who lived near the boundary of a city, town or country. I thought it appropriate, all things considered.
> 
> If my Chinese translation is wrong, I sincerely apologize and blame Google Translate.

_Under New Management_

_Closed for Remodeling_

_Now Hiring, Enquire Within_

 

The excitement was contagious.  Marianne, Dawn and Sunny stood outside the Dark Forest Café, taking in the papered windows and the line of applicants going out the door.  Most of them they recognized as conservatory students.

 

"Oooooooh, Sunny, let's apply!"  Dawn didn't bother waiting for his reply and ran to secure her place in line.

 

"You know, Sunny, you don't have to go along with every crazy notion Dawn gets in her head, don't you?"

 

Sunny looked at Marianne and sighed.  "I know."

 

Marianne was about to praise him for making a good decision when Sunny added, "But it's more fun when I do!"  He took his place in line behind Dawn.

 

Hopeless.  Absolutely hopeless.  Marianne shook her head at the two of them.  She had known for quite awhile that Sunny was head over heels in love with her sister and she couldn't be more pleased.  Sunny was a good guy.  He respected her sister and had always been a loyal friend to both of them.  Dawn, on the other hand, tended to take Sunny for granted.  Marianne could only wait and see what would happen.  She knew Dawn was still figuring out what she wanted out of life and right now, if her grades were any indication, her interests seemed elsewhere.

 

Marianne's thoughts drifted back to their last serious conversation.  She had returned from her chance meeting with Bog at the café to find Dawn still up, waiting for her.

 

"Marianne?  Where have you been?  Never mind.  Look, I’m sorry, ok?  I'm so, so, so very sorry.  I never should've said what I said."  She paused to take a breath.  Marianne waited silently.

 

Dawn shrugged her shoulders and continued, "It's just that you make such a big deal out of everything.  I'm not you.  I'm not perfect.  I don't get perfect grades and I'm always late to cIass.   I don't have my life all mapped out for me.  You've always known what you were going to do with yourself and that's great.  It's just that…it's not _me_.  I don't have it all figured out.  At least, not yet."  Dawn looked at Marianne, to gauge her reaction.  When Marianne still said nothing, Dawn sighed.  She really, really hoped she hadn't screwed up so badly that her sister would never forgive her.

 

"I guess what I'm trying to say is, give me a chance."

 

Marianne finally spoke.  "A chance for what, Dawn?"

 

"A chance to learn things for myself.  To make mistakes.  I'm not a genius like you.  Give me a chance to breathe.  I guess I lost my temper because I was feeling so pressured.  Everyone expects me to be perfect like you and…I'm not.  I wish so hard that I was, but, I'm not.   And I'm so sorry, Marianne."  Dawns eyes had turned pleading, filling with unshed tears.  A few seconds more and they began to fall.

 

In that moment, Marianne hated herself so much, she felt like she was going to choke on it.   _'I've become mom.'_

 

"Dawn…"  Marianne couldn't speak, couldn't find the words.  So she reached out and held her sister as tightly as she could without hurting her. 

 

"Boggy!  What are you doing here?"  Dawn's cheerful cry pierced Marianne's thoughts.  She looked toward the doorway and saw Bog handing out applications.

 

"Bog."  He corrected.  He saw Marianne and gave her a small nod. 

 

Marianne took in his sheepish smile and laughed.  He was blushing! 

 

"Yes, Boggy, do tell.  What _are_ you doing here?"  Marianne squeezed through Dawn and Sunny to get over to him.

 

"Bog," he growled, making Marianne laugh again.

 

He ignored her and kept walking down the line, passing out applications. He began informing the potential candidates that they would be closing up soon and they could return tomorrow.  Marianne placed her hand on his wrist.

 

"Wait a minute.  Are you working here?"

 

Bog looked down at her petite hand around his wrist.  He swallowed.   Silently, he cursed himself for not thinking about how he would explain the situation to her.  He looked over to the application he was holding and inspiration struck. 

 

He cleared his throat, "I, um, yes.  I'm working here now.  I'm the new manager."

 

Marianne's eyebrows rose at that.  "Seriously?  So, you met the owner?  You know who it is?  Do you know what kind of remodeling they're doing?"

 

"Wow, Marianne.  You're starting to sound like Dawn with those non-stop questions.  Give him a chance to answer!"  Sunny reached over to pluck an application from Bog's hand.

 

Marianne bit the inside of her cheek and waited in silence while Bog finished passing out applications to the rest of the line.  When it was just the four of them left, she asked again, "Do you know what the owner's remodeling plans are?"

 

Bog hesitated.  "Give me just a minute."  He walked back inside.

 

After forever, he finally came back out.  "Would you like to come in for a bit?  The major construction hasn't started so it's safe."

 

"Yes!"  the three of them answered in unison.

 

Bog turned his head, causing his neck to crack, cleared his throat and turned to open the door.

 

The windows had all been covered so it was dim inside and the air held the sharp smell of sawdust. Bog led them to a  table where  two people were seated.  There were neat stacks of applications on the table and a few pens meticulously lined up evenly between them.  The two mystery people stood to greet them as they approached.

 

The woman stepped out from behind the table, bowed deeply and said, "Welcome to the Dark Forest Café.  I am Song Guo."

 

She cleared her throat and the man followed suit.  "Yes, welcome!" he bowed.  "I am Zhang Guo.  I am happy to make your aqua tents."

 

Song shook her head and elbowed the man, whispering in his ear.  The man's face turned red and he said, "I am happy to make your acquaintance."

 

Marianne could see Bog shaking his head, face in palm, out of the corner of her eye.  The woman, Song, was also visibly irritated.  Marianne recognized their accents, bowed deeply in return and replied to them in their native language.

 

_Hěn gāoxìng jiàn dào nǐ._

_Wǒ shì Marianne._

 

Bog dropped his hand to stare at Marianne. Dawn and Sunny gaped open mouthed at her.  Song and Zhang broke out in the widest grins.

 

"Wait, what did you say to them, Marianne?  All I could make out was, 'Marianne'.  And since when do you speak Chinese?!"  Dawn stared at her sister.  Was there seriously anything her sister _couldn't_ do?

 

Marianne shrugged.  "I took a class a few years ago.  I just said it was a pleasure to meet them and that my name was Marianne.  At least I hope that's what I said.  It's been awhile since I studied it."

 

Song and Zhang immediately began to talk with Marianne, in Chinese.  Bog, Dawn and Sunny's glances bounced back and forth between Marianne and Song and Zhang, like they were watching a tennis match, absolutely clueless as to what the heck was going on.

 

Finally, after much laughter and merriment between them, Marianne held up her hands, "Please, that's all I know and I'm absolutely butchering the pronunciations!"

 

Bog couldn't believe his eyes.  Song was…smiling?  His mother's personal assistant, business (and personal) confidant _never_ did that.  She was too busy being 'professional' and 'proper' (and stuffy, in Bog's opinion).  And Zhang looked to be just about in tears, the damn man was so happy. Bog was beginning to suspect that they had fallen in love.  Then…

 

"Mistress Marianne," Zhang just about sang out.

 

 _'Mistress'?!'_   Bog groaned inwardly. 

 

"You are most welcome here!"

 

Then Song, "Were you going to apply for a job here?"

 

 _No, no, no._   It was time for Bog to step in.

 

"I believe," he started, giving Song and Zhang a pointed look, "that just Dawn and Sunny had been planning on applying."

 

Dawn jumped up and down, clapping her hands, "Yes, we were!  But oh, Marianne, wouldn't it be great if we could all work together?  You, me, Boggy and Sunny?"

 

 _"Boggy?"_   Song and Zhang replied in surprise and shock.

 

"Bog".  He really needed to have a chat with that crazy creature.  His head could only take so much aching.

 

"Dawn, I don't know.  We don't know what they plan to do with this place other than keep it a café.  I don't know if I'll like working here if it's too…different.  It just wouldn't feel right…"  She punctuated her last sentence with her hand sweeping over the café.

 

Marianne's gaze snapped back to Song and Zhang.  "Are you the new owners?"

 

Bog held his breath.

 

"No, no, Mistress," Zhang answered, shaking his head.

 

"We are merely the owner's business representatives.  We’ll be overseeing operations here."  Song eyed her carefully.  "You are worried about the remodeling plans?"

 

"Well, yes, to be honest."  Marianne turned to look behind her.  All the red vinyl, chrome and Formica furnishings were gone.  Even the old, rusty engine.  Her gaze settled to where the makeshift art gallery and stage had been.  She sucked in her breath.  Then, she saw a faint outline against the wall where the jukebox had once stood, cranking out hits from the 1950's. 

 

"It's all…gone.  The stage, the art gallery, even the jukebox."  She swallowed hard, trying to fight the emotions welling up inside her chest.

 

Song moved toward Marianne slowly, blank application in hand.  "It appears as if you have some thoughts about how the café should be remodeled.  If you please, I would like for you to apply.  All of you.  Interviews will be held next week.  If you are hired," she continued, looking at Marianne, "I will see about sharing any ideas you have to the owner."

 

Marianne felt the weight of five gazes bearing down on her, waiting for her response.  She found her traitorous body reach out it's hand and accept the application Song held out to her.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 


	12. That's What Friends Are For

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Bog and Marianne's friendship grows.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> "That's What Friends Are For" by Dionne Warwick
> 
> Kuya - 'big brother'  
> Ang aking mga anak - my children  
> Tatay - father  
> Tito - Uncle  
> Tita - Aunt

Bog was surrounded.  North, South, East, West.  He circled slowly, focusing on the esckrimador directly in front of him and relying on his peripheral vision to keep watch on the other two.  The one directly behind him was a blind spot, the only sense he could use to track them was his hearing.  He felt a sweat bead trickle down his temple and swallowed, weighing his options.

 

"What's the matter, Kuya?  Afraid of little girls?"  That was from the pink one, Dahlia.

 

"Just relax.  Remember to breathe.  Let your body remember what to do."  Ah, Gloria, the purple.  The most reasonable of the three.  Usually.

 

Evil giggles.  "Oh, Kuya…" Emerita sung out, the green ribbons in her hair waving as she shuffled gracefully around him.  "Don't be afraid.  Of hurting us I mean."

 

"Will you three leave him alone already?  I told you he's not ready for this yet."  Marianne, his savior.

 

Bog swallowed again, wiping the moisture from his brow with his sleeve.  You bet your sweet ass he wasn't ready.  Not that he was uncomfortable with the sparring.  He had plenty of sparring experience with the rounds of boxing, fencing, and wrestling lessons he had taken over the years.  But he had been sparring with men his size.  He was damn uncomfortable sparring with four young women who barely reached up to the middle of his chest.  Marianne was the tallest of the four, and she barely reached his shoulder!  Call him old-fashioned, but he really wasn't ready to take them on.  What if he hurt one of them?  And with their father watching! 

 

The one he had had in his peripheral vision to his right made her move.  He barely had time to make out the green blur of her uniform before blocking her attack.  They were doing hand to hand combat, and if remembered correctly, it was the green one's specialty.  It was all over in a moment, if the ceiling fan had anything to say about it.  It was mocking him, it's fan blades innocently spinning around with a faint swishing.

 

Their father stepped out onto the mat and offered his hand to Bog, smiling.  He could hear the Pixies tittering behind their hands, trying to be polite, but Bog had grown accustomed to their natural gaiety and laughter and knew there was no meanness behind it.  Marianne stood there shaking her head.  Whether at the Pixies or him, or both, he couldn't be sure.  Bog sighed and accepted help from the man who spawned the three hellions.  "Tito Raul" as he had insisted Bog call him, led him off the mat toward the locker rooms.

 

"That is enough for today, ang aking mga anak," he said to the girls as he and Bog left the training area.  "Go get changed."

 

**********

 

Bog walked over to the water cooler in the corner of the locker room and helped himself.  He heard Tito Raul's good natured chuckle behind him and Bog turned to face him.  Raul was a strong, wiry man.  He kept his head shaven, (to hide his graying hair and bald spot, according to his daughters) and  was in amazing shape.  Bog had learned that this man had been a marine in the Philippines, fighting guerrillas in the mountains of his hometown. He had earned his U.S. citizenship by winning a lottery to serve as a steward on a U.S. Navy ship stationed in Subic Bay.

 

"Are you having fun training with my girls?"

 

"Honestly, sir, your girls scare me."

 

Tito Raul let out a hearty laugh.  "You know, Bog?  They scare me too!" 

 

"How can that be?  You are the one who trained them!"

 

"Yes, but they are more devious than I could ever be.  They get that from their mother."

 

They fell into a comfortable silence as they changed out of their training gear.  Bog really liked Tito Raul and his Pixies.  Marianne had told him about her 'secret name' for the girls, but apparently it was no secret as the Pixies had custom made shirts with 'Pink Pixie', 'Purple Pixie', and 'Green Pixie', embroidered on them.  Oh, and under their nick-names?  They had their favorite weapon underneath; Dahlia had a machete ( _a machete_!), Gloria a pair of eskrima sticks crossed in an 'x', and Emerita a pair of hands, pressed together as if in prayer.  Oh, the irony.

 

Bog had met them a few weeks ago, when he offered to drive Marianne to her practice when her car was in the shop.  Marianne had introduced him as her friend and co-worker, but Bog couldn't miss their raised eyebrows and curious glances.  They had welcomed him with open arms, smiles and offers of food.  He had sat there, watching Marianne and the Pixies train under the supervision of Raul, while their mother, Tita Melly, stuffed his face with amazing Filipino dishes.  They had all hung out for awhile afterward, eating and chatting.  Before the evening was over, they had convinced him to try his hand at eskrima, not taking no for an answer.  It didn't hurt that Melly bribed him with more of her cooking.  Bog smiled to himself, remembering how easily they had broken down his barriers with their genuine warmth.

 

When Bog sat to put on his shoes, he noticed Tito Raul, already changed, watching him. 

 

"Bog," he began, clearing his throat and looking a bit uncomfortable. "You have been coming here for a few weeks now…" he paused and Bog waited.

 

"I want you to know that Marianne is like a daughter to me.  After her mother passed on, my family and I took her under our wing.  We have always worried for her.  She…changed…after she lost her mother."  Raul's gaze shifted to a spot above Bog's shoulder, lost in his thoughts.  His gaze eventually shifted back to Bog and Bog started to feel a bit nervous, not knowing where this conversation was going to lead.

 

"Marianne…laughs when she is with you.  She seems happy.  I just wanted to thank you for that.  For being her friend."

 

Bog was definitely not expecting that.  "Um…well, she is…"  he tried to search for the right words, "she is different."

 

"I like different!"  He quickly added when he saw Raul's eyebrows raised in question. 

 

"Yes, yes.  Marianne is 'different'."  Raul chuckled, and Bog felt himself relax a bit. 

 

"Raul," he ventured carefully, not knowing if he was overstepping his bounds, wondering if it was something he should be asking Marianne instead. "May I ask about their father?  Marianne never talks about him…"

 

At the mention of their father, Raul sighed and sat down on the bench opposite of Bog.  "Their father, was a good friend of mine.  He did not take the loss of his wife well.  After Marianne turned 18, he went back  home to the Philippines and we lost contact.  He left Dawn in Marianne's care.  Marianne is Dawn's legal guardian."  Raul rubbed his eyes and Bog could feel his grief.  "Dawn turned 18 recently, so I guess that's no longer true, but…Marianne had to grow up fast.  Too many responsibilities, too young.  Sometimes I think, she has forgotten how to have fun.  She never had many friends.  That is why I'm glad she met you."

 

Bog swallowed, feeling like he had delved too deeply into Marianne's past, like he had betrayed her trust somehow, by not asking her directly. 

 

"Oh, Tatay!"  The Pixies sang out from the other side of the locker room door.  "Did you fall asleep in there?"

 

Raul slapped his hands on his knees before standing, his familiar chuckle trailing behind him as he went to open the door.  "I am an old man, anak, have some patience."

 

**********

 

Marianne felt good.  Her gaze swept the floor of the café, taking in the various stages of renovations.  She and Song had hit it off and once Song got a look at her application and resume and drilled her for over an hour with grueling interview questions, she had been offered the position of Assistant Marketing and Sales Manager.  Marianne had had to decline, stating that she couldn't work full time with her current school load so Song had hired her to work as her personal assistant.  Which was, in effect, the same job description as Assistant Marketing and Sales Manager, but less hours.  Marianne smiled and shook her head. Song really was a person used to getting her way.

 

The work was hard but rewarding and she found herself enjoying her time at the café.  Song was a hard core professional, but her husband, while just as hard a worker as his wife, had a silly side to him and was always making everyone around him laugh.  He would often mispronounce words and mix up his sentences in comedic ways.  Marianne was beginning to suspect that he did it on purpose.  Most of it, anyways.  Song and Zhang were the perfect balance for each other, opposites in almost every way with the exception of their mutual love and respect.  Light and Dark, Yin and Yang.  Working with them was never boring.

 

Sunny and Dawn had been hired as part-time baristas but their eye for art and design had them spending more time sketching plans for the café's new look.  With the café still under construction, they hadn't started their training but that didn't stop them from bombarding poor Song and Zhang with their ideas.  And Marianne had to admit they were pretty great ideas.  Dawn and Sunny had showed them to her first and only presented the 'Marianne approved' sketches to Song and Zhang.

 

Marianne was in awe of how Dawn had seemed to really blossom over the past few weeks.  Dawn seemed to love being at the café as well, but Marianne suspected it was the allure of creating and designing something that got her sister excited.  Her attendance and performance and school had improved and even Professor Plum had noted the change.

 

Professor Plum.  Marianne had to shake her head at the woman's not-so-subtle matchmaking antics.  Most of them were light hearted and funny (well, Marianne found she could laugh at them _after_ the fact), but some of them were downright embarrassing.  Like the time when she invited Dawn, Sunny, Bog and her to see a movie to celebrate their new jobs.  She'd chosen a showing that had the theater empty, led all of them up to the very back row, got them settled and then when the previews started complained that her 'old eyes' couldn’t see the screen well.  And oh, she had forgotten her glasses, and would Sunny and Dawn mind moving down closer to the front with her?  She didn't want to sit alone.  No, no, Bog and Marianne could stay where they were, what with them being already settled with their drinks and popcorn.

 

And the movie?  Marianne had seriously regretted not finding out what movie the Professor had chosen beforehand.  It was 'Top Gun' with Tom Cruise.  Number one, she can't stand Tom Cruise.  Something about the way he always seemed to have an unattractive superior, smug look.  Number two, the guy volleyball scene where all of them were shirtless, tanned, well muscled and shiny with sweat.  (Dawn's favorite scene, and ok, she'll admit, Val Kilmer wasn't too hard on the eyes.)   Number three, the sex scene and cheesy love song that accompanied it, 'Take My Breath Away' by Berlin.  Yeah, she could've done without that.

 

The only redeeming factor to the whole fiasco was when Bog had leaned over and asked her, "Is this a fantasy, sci-fi movie?  I don't see any dragons or anyone getting beamed up yet."

 

That got the two of them going, adding sarcastic commentary, eye rolls and snickers throughout the movie.  Professor Plum even raised herself from her seat to turn and look at them when they got a bit too loud.  Even in the dim of the theater they could make out her disapproving stares which only got them to snicker more. Thank goodness they were the only ones in the theater otherwise she and Bog probably would've been thrown out.

 

She looked over at him, reviewing plans with some of the construction crew.  Over the past few weeks she and Bog had spent time together in various ways.  He was helping out at the Conservatory, giving guitar and music theory lessons to those who needed extra help, so they often ran into each other there.  He had been invited by Tito Raul and his family to train at their gym.  They had been working together here at the café.  He had invaded almost every area of her life.  In the past, she would've resented such an intrusion upon her well structured, almost solitary world.  But for some reason, she didn't mind.  She found herself waking with anticipation of what challenges she would face that day and, if she would just admit it to herself, looking forward to seeing him.

 

Bog chose that moment to look up and meet her gaze.  Embarrassed to have been caught staring, Marianne quickly looked back down at her paperwork and made herself look busy.  He really did have the most intense blue eyes she'd ever seen.  She heard the familiar sound of his footsteps approach and didn't look up when she heard him sit down across from her.

 

"How's the hiring going?"

 

Marianne put the pile of applications she had been reviewing in a neat stack before looking up at him.  "Well we sure don't have a shortage of applicants, that's for sure."

 

Bog looked at her for a few moments and just when Marianne was going to say something to break the silence he said,  "You've been holding out on me."

 

"Excuse me?"  Holding out on him?  About what?  Oh, no.  He couldn't have found out about…

 

"You never told me you had a degree in marketing and business management."

 

Marianne let out an internal sigh of relief.  "Well, it's not something that someone usually shares when they first meet someone, you know. _'Hi, I'm Marianne and I have a degree in marketing and business management.  What about you?' "_

 

Bog chuckled and shook his head.  "That sounds like something Dawn would say."

 

Marianne took no offense because it was definitely true.  Dawn seemed to really adore Bog.  He had finally convinced her to stop calling him 'Boggy', so she had started addressing him as 'kuya'.  She still slipped every now and then, but at least Bog wore that pained look less often.  And he didn't seem to mind her addressing him as such.  She had even gotten the Pixies calling him that too.

 

"What I really meant to say was that you never told me how good you are at it.  Song is a tough nut to crack and she's ready to head back to Scotland, convinced that the café will be fine in your capable hands."

 

Marianne felt heat rising in her cheeks at the praise.  "Don't be silly.  It's my job to be good at my job."

 

Bog looked like he was going to say something then changed his mind.  She knew that look.  It was the look he gave whenever he wanted to say the first thing that popped into his mind but then thought better of it and said something else instead.

 

"It's okay, Bog.  You can say it.  We are friends after all, right?"

 

Bog met her eyes at that and for a moment she couldn't breathe.

 

"Why do you always belittle yourself?  You are a strong, capable, person.  You should be proud of that.  I know it can feel uncomfortable when someone gives you praise, but my mom taught me something."

 

Marianne smiled a bit.  Bog was always quoting his mother.  She really did have a lot of good things to say.  Marianne would love to meet her someday…

 

"She told me to just accept it and say 'thank you'."

 

Marianne reached out her hand and placed it over his.  "Thank you, Bog."

 

He turned his hand over, palm up, and gently clasped his long fingers around her outstretched hand.  "You're welcome.  That's what friends are for, after all."

 

**********

 

Neither of them noticed that they were center stage the moment Bog went over to talk to Marianne.  They had a full house; Dawn, Sunny, Song, Zhang, had all stopped what they were doing to watch...and no one in that whole group noticed one Professor Plum, her keen eyes observing through an tear in the paper covering the large window pane at the front of the cafe, a most satisfying grin on her face.  She was overdue for her next overseas call...

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the delay in posting a new chapter, RL has been kicking my butt. Next chapter will have the grand opening of the Dark Forest Cafe, Roland makes his entrance (again), and Halloween!


End file.
